


Starlight, Moonlight

by xeneurotics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A brief shedding of tears, Bokuaka being in love and having sex, Bokuto is so precious here, But also not, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, I adore them honestly, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sex, Smut, bless them, i think, it’s just soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeneurotics/pseuds/xeneurotics
Summary: “See?” Akaashi says. He lays his hand on top of Bokuto’s, not holding it, just to feel him. Just to keep him there. “I am right here, Bokuto-san.”“Yeah...” Bokuto is somewhat awestruck. “Yeah, you are.”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 53
Kudos: 399





	Starlight, Moonlight

“Slow.” 

There’s a feather-light touch at Bokuto’s jaw. Akaashi’s slender fingers reach out to caress him. It’s soft. It’s calming. _Listen_ , it says, _listen to me._

And he would, he wants to, he wants to be good, he always does.

But Bokuto is passionate, he’s fueled by emotion, powered by lust and love and he wants to take and give and have all at the same time; Akaashi knows this. Where Bokuto is fire, Akaashi is the water that quels him.

And sometimes, he likes to give in.

Sometimes, he crumbles and evaporates into steam, hot and surging and delicate, where Bokuto’s hands imprint onto his skin and lips brand their marks possessively against his neck. Sometimes, he takes what Bokuto wants to give him.

And other times, _he_ gives what Bokuto wants to take.

“Slow,” he says again, whispers it; a secret. Bokuto nods. His body is buzzing. He wants it, he wants it _so bad_. 

Akaashi crosses his legs behind Bokuto’s back. His lap is comfortable to sit on, thick, muscled thighs making for sufficient seating. Maybe Akaashi _would_ prefer it if he weren’t fully clothed right now but in some ways it makes it all the better that he isn’t. 

His hand curls around the back of Bokuto’s neck, thumb pressing up against the underside of his chin and he’s tilting his head until his throat is so beautifully exposed and he can mouth ever-so-gently over the jut of his Adam's apple. 

He can feel Bokuto’s groan against his lips.

It buzzes, like the rest of him, radiating energy.

“You’re a—“ Bokuto chokes out, threading his fingers through Akaashi’s hair, “You’re a _tease_ , Keiji.”

It makes Akaashi smile. He hums, thoughtfully, as his lips work their way down the column of Bokuto’s throat. “Am I?” he murmurs, amusement seeping into his tone. Bokuto whines, he _whines_ , desperate and unabashed. Akaashi revels in it.

“Yes— _yes_ —“ Bokuto’s voice is breathy as Akaashi bites, tender, just below the base of his jaw. “Kiss me.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” responds Akaashi, and he’s only messing with him but Bokuto lets out that tiny little whine again and _holy god,_ that should _not_ be as attractive as it is.

Bokuto takes a sharp inhale of breath, brows knitted together. “ _Please,_ ” he says, “please.”

And Akaashi caves, always, because kissing Bokuto is probably his favourite thing in the world.

“Slowly,” is all he whispers before he leans in, before they melt into one behind soft caresses of lips and tongues and it’s careful, it’s controlled, it’s a promise. “Good.”

The buzzing is louder, if it were a sound as Akaashi hears it, a flame that grows and flickers and burns, scorches, swelling with pride. “Yeah,” Bokuto says, hands slipping tenderly under Akaashi’s light brown jumper, touching him gently, “ _Yeah_ — Say it again— Keiji, I need—“

“Earn it,” he replies, teasing. “Be good for me.”

Bokuto swears, trembling, head dipping down to rest on Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi cradles him, runs his fingers through his hair, kisses the top of his head; Bokuto thinks he might cry. “Anything—“ he says, muffled against his skin, “ _Anything_ —“

“I know.” Akaashi’s heart skips a beat as he responds. Bokuto’s hair is soft, he thinks, for the amount of product he surely has to use to get it to stick up like that. “Just relax.”

“I want— I wanna touch you so _bad_ , I can’t—“

“You can,” he says. “You can.”

“I can?”

“Slowly.”

Bokuto nods. “Slowly,” he repeats, taking in a shaky breath, hands hiking up higher, stroking Akaashi’s waist, and then his ribs, feeling every ridge and bone underneath the skin. “Will you take it off?”

“Mhm.” And Akaashi does, pulling the jumper over his head and discarding it on the floor. “Satisfied, Bokuto-san?”

And the idiot _laughs,_ he laughs, before his lips are on Akaashi’s again, and even in his passion he’s trying, steadying himself before he tips over the edge. 

Slowly, _slowly_.

The moment Bokuto’s fingers graze over his nipples, Akaashi shudders, heat coursing through his veins just as Bokuto surges through him, his life, his happiness. The pleasure is a low hum, settling deep in his gut. And Bokuto does it again, the bastard, of course he does. Akaashi simply closes his eyes, melts against him.

“Pretty,” Bokuto marvels, eyes wide and tone awestruck, as if he’s seeing him for the first time, “Can I… I want—“

“Yeah, yeah, c’mere,” he urges. Bokuto glows at the approval, dips his head down to lick delicately over one of his nipples. The sensation is warm, and wet, it’s heavenly. Akaashi wants that mouth on him, everywhere. 

He’s always been sensitive there, but in moments like this Bokuto never exploits it without permission, because he’s good, he’s always good. Always so eager to please, so determined.

Akaashi loves him.

And Bokuto bites. He bites because he knows Akaashi likes it, likes the slight twinge of pain as it mixes with pleasure, but Akaashi wasn’t expecting it this time. He curses, a loud ‘ _fuck!’_ as his head lolls just a little bit and his hips stutter. Bokuto grins. Akaashi wants to kiss him.

“Behave,” he warns, but draws him closer to his chest. Bokuto laughs again, wrapping his lips around the other nipple and running his tongue over it, biting, sucking, licking, and _oh my god_ , Akaashi is unbelievably hard, he’s _straining_ against his pants and he has half a mind to tell him to keep going, just to test out whether or not he could come just like this. He doesn’t want to, though, not tonight.

“I am,” Bokuto says as he pulls away, eyes wide with sincerity even though he’s smiling, “You’re just really pretty.”

Akaashi laughs, because it’s the only way he knows how to react to statements like that. “Take your top off,” he says instead, “I want to touch you too.”

“Are _you_ gonna behave?” Bokuto grins again, pulling his top over his head too, and Akaashi rolls his eyes. 

_Idiot_ , he thinks, _never_. 

Bokuto is built like a god. Akaashi would definitely take his sweet time with him now if he weren’t as turned on as he is. His gaze is as appreciative as his hands are, mapping out the contours of his lover’s body with his own, and Bokuto practically thrums with happiness at the attention. He likes it, but only from him, Akaashi has learned. 

Bokuto gets more uncomfortable than Akaashi does when fangirls come up to him asking for autographs and gushing about his body, but he’s more than happy to let Akaashi give him an obvious once-over whenever he sees him, and he’s definitely more than happy in _this_ position.

“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that,” Bokuto says, voice a little lower, a little raspier, _affected_. 

“Like what?” Akaashi responds for the sake of responding, refusing to tear his eyes away. His fingers dip provocatively into the waistband of Bokuto’s jeans, feeling the V of his hips against his fingers.

“ _Keiji_.” Yes, yes, Akaashi wants to say, I know. But he can’t, he can’t stop, he’s _gorgeous._

“Slowly,” Akaashi repeats, and he thinks this time it’s more for himself than for Bokuto, who smiles a lazy smile and reaches out to run a tender knuckle over his cheek. He cradles his face, then, and Akaashi leans into it, pressing the side of his face into Bokuto’s palm like he’s been touch-starved his entire life. 

Bokuto simply smiles at him. “I know.” Then, “We were just supposed to make out.”

It makes Akaashi laugh, unhindered and loud, and he nestles into the crook of Bokuto’s neck as he says, “Shut up.” Bokuto laughs, too. “Wanna make out some more?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I wanna.”

“Slowly,” Akaashi reminds him, and Bokuto whines. “I’m hard, though.”

“I know. I can feel you.”

“That’s embarrassing,” Akaashi admits.

Bokuto shakes his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “It’s not. You know I’d fuck you right here if you asked me to.”

“Not yet,” he says, struggling to find words, “I just want— I want—“

“Slow,” Bokuto says, grinning like he’s proud to have understood his train of thought, “I’ll be good.”

“Idiot,” Akaashi mutters, cupping Bokuto’s stupidly handsome face in both his hands and kissing him softly, “You’re always good.”

He can feel Bokuto go lax against him, melting, pliant and warm. “I am?”

Akaashi thinks he could actually cry, or explode with pure, unadulterated love. “So good,” he says, voice a little shaky, “Always, _always_. You’re amazing. You’re everything—“

“Shhh,” Bokuto frowns, wrapping his arms around him and holding him just as Akaashi had held him earlier. It’s only then that Akaashi realises he’s genuinely crying, feeling the wetness of his tears as they tickle the skin of his cheeks. “You okay?”

Akaashi hiccups. This is gross, he thinks, in the back of his mind, he’s crying, it’s gross, emotions are gross, he hates it, he _hates_ it. “I love you.” 

Bokuto is stunned into silence. For a good few seconds, before he softens, holding him tighter. “I love you too,” he replies, “You’re silly, Keiji.”

Akaashi laughs through his tears. “So are you.”

“Maybe,” Bokuto acquiesces. He seems like he’s seriously thinking about it. It’s adorable, he’s adorable; Akaashi cries harder. “Hey— Are you okay? What’s the matter, do you wanna stop and lay down? Tea? Food?”

Akaashi can’t find it in him to respond. He just clings on for dear life, sobbing his heart out, nestled into Bokuto’s shoulder, where he feels safe.

“You gotta—“ Bokuto’s worried, Akaashi recognises it, “You gotta talk to me here, Keiji.”

Akaashi shudders, sniffs, and then he hiccups again. “I love you,” he repeats, “ _I love you_.”

“I love you too,” Bokuto says, rubbing his back in slow, soothing motions. Akaashi feels so warm and safe and treasured and he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t say that, though, he won’t, because Bokuto is looking down at him with such genuine concern and affection that he just might be inclined to believe otherwise. “Relax.” His voice is calming. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” he all but squeaks in reply, trying to steady his breathing. “I know, I know. You’re so good to me.”

“You’re good to me, too.”

“You think?” he sniffs.

“Mhm!” Bokuto sounds so sure of himself. As sure of himself as when he spikes one of Atsumu’s sets on the court, as sure of himself as when it connects with his palm and he slams it past the net, when it plummets into the ground and the air cracks with the force of it. “There you go, just relax.”

And Akaashi does. “I’m tired,” he says, eventually.

“You can sleep,” Bokuto replies, brushing the hair out of his eyes with his fingers. “I’ll hold you.”

“I know. But,” Akaashi pauses, “I kinda still wanna get off.”

There’s about a minute of silence.

And then, Bokuto’s laughing, holding him tighter, body shaking with the force of it. “You’re crazy,” he says, lovingly, “You’re absolutely insane.” Akaashi grins because he can’t help it. He presses a kiss to his neck, shifts a little for comfort and hums.

“I think you like that,” he retorts, after Bokuto’s laughter has died down a bit.

“‘Course! I like everything about you.”

“Sap.”

“That’s not as much of an insult as you think it is, Keiji,” there’s a smile in Bokuto’s voice and Akaashi doesn’t even need to see it.

“Shh,” he says, rather childishly. It makes Bokuto laugh. He wants to spend the rest of his life making Bokuto laugh like that. _Oh, god._ Don’t think about that now, don’t think about it now, _don’t_. He lifts his head. “Kiss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Bokuto challenges.

“You want to,” Akaashi replies, with all the confidence in the world. Huh. He wonders where that came from. “You want to.”

“I do,” he agrees, “You’re pretty when you cry.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Akaashi just kisses him instead, because if he goes on saying things like that he might just cry again. His lips are soft, still, so soft, warm, tender, and he’s still being careful, still keeping his promise. Even though Akaashi knows he’d completely ravish him as soon as he says the word; his cock stirs a little, thinking about it. But it’s equally gratifying when Bokuto submits to him, vies for his praise, begs for it so eagerly. Trusts him, with his everything. 

Bokuto kisses like he loves, he kisses like he fucks, like he does everything, he kisses with feeling, with emotion, with drive and passion, with fire that sets Akaashi aflame. He basks in it, willingly lets himself burn until his resolve crumbles into ashes, dust, scattered on the floor where their clothes lay crumpled and still. He takes it in, drinks it like an alcoholic drinks wine, red, flavour bursting onto his taste buds; it fills him with warmth. Bokuto tastes like home, the heat of a fireplace as it crackles and spits and curls, dances, inviting. 

He tastes like comfort. 

He tastes like love. 

“More,” Akaashi whispers against his lips, “I want more.”

Bokuto chuckles, pulling him closer, hands underneath his thighs. “Thought you wanted it slow,” he says.

“I do,” Akaashi replies, trying not to get too excited at the contact, “I just want more.”

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, touch me, that’s what I want,” Akaashi nods, shifting closer. He feels desperate. Maybe he is. It’s quite out of character, for him, or at least this early into… into what? Are they gonna have sex? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care, to be honest. 

Bokuto teases his swollen nipples again, grinning at the way Akaashi’s thighs instinctively spread wider, pleasure jolting through him instantly.

“Fuck you,” Akaashi says, but there’s no bite to it whatsoever. Bokuto laughs again, and Akaashi feels like he’s won the jackpot lottery.

“I’ll fuck you if you want,” Bokuto counters, running his hands down Akaashi’s sides, thumbing at his hipbones just under the material of his sweatpants.

“I’ll ride you if you’re good.”

Bokuto stares at him, wide eyed and mouth agape, before he nods. “Okay,” he says, softly, “Yeah— that’s good, okay—“ He’s so adorable without even meaning to be that Akaashi just wants to kiss him, he wants to hold his face in his hands and call him an idiot and then kiss that adorable expression right off his face, push him down onto the mattress and make him come harder than he’d ever come in his life. _Jesus_ , Akaashi thinks, _maybe I really am in love._

And it’s silly that he’d even thought it, because _of course_ he is.

“Take the rest of it off,” Akaashi says, manoeuvring himself off Bokuto’s lap so he can do the same. 

He pulls his sweatpants down to his ankles and kicks them off, repeats the motion for his underwear too, and when he looks back, Bokuto is just as undressed as he is, sitting up against the headboard just waiting for him like that. Akaashi doesn’t resist any of his urges to settle between his legs, and so he does, placing both his hands atop Bokuto’s spread thighs, feeling the hard muscle underneath his fingertips.

“You really like those,” Bokuto comments, as if the statement doesn’t embarrass him _at all_ — the same cannot be said for Akaashi, who flushes a deep crimson at his words. Bokuto looks like he wants to laugh again. He doesn’t. 

Akaashi silently thanks him for it, wraps his hand around Bokuto’s cock and says, “I like this better.”

Bokuto seems to have no qualms with that.

“Behave,” Akaashi reminds him, because he knows Bokuto might not otherwise. His hand works him slowly, up and down, and Bokuto seems to relax, making sure not to move his arms from where they are at his sides, hips staying still.

His eyes flutter closed, small sighs of pleasure leaving his lips, but Akaashi knows he’s gonna get riled up soon. “Keiji,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine but Bokuto doesn’t particularly care, “Keiji, I need—“

“You’ll take what I give you,” Akaashi replies, softly. He ignores the way Bokuto’s cock twitches as he says it, because he’d smile, he’d cave, he’d give him whatever he wanted. “Relax. Slowly.”

Bokuto groans, hands fisting the bedsheets. “Mmkay,” he murmurs, attempting to steady his breathing.

“Good,” Akaashi’s mumbling now, “Stay still.” And that’s all the warning Bokuto gets before Akaashi’s mouth is on him. 

His tongue licks all the way up from base to tip just before he wraps his lips around it, and Bokuto has to tighten his hold on the bedcovers because all he wants to do is run his hand through Akaashi’s hair and pull him down and Akaashi _knows_ , eyes glinting with smugness as he looks up at him.

Bokuto’s cock is just like every other muscle in his body, big, thick, and _definitely_ hard, he can feel it; when they first started dating he had trouble swallowing it down. Although, it’s safe to say he doesn’t have the same problem now.

“Relax,” Akaashi teases when he pulls away. He drags his tongue over the tip and laps up the precum that leaks down his shaft afterwards.

Bokuto’s breathing is laboured.

Akaashi chooses that moment to take more of him into his mouth, getting about halfway down before swallowing around him and Bokuto _groans_ , low and rumbling from deep inside his gut. “Fuck,” he grits out, “ _Fuck_ , Keiji—“ 

If Bokuto doesn’t stop saying his name like that, Akaashi might actually combust.

In retaliation, Akaashi takes the rest of him down in one fluid motion. He has to will his gag reflex not to act up, because he can feel the tears prickling his eyes as he struggles to stay there. Ordinarily, Bokuto’s hand would be at his head keeping him down while he breathes in through his nose, he’d rock his hips up into his mouth and Akaashi would let him.

But not tonight.

He runs his hands along Bokuto’s forearms until he reaches his wrists, loosening his hands from the sheets so he can hold them, intertwining their fingers together. There’s a smile in his eyes. Bokuto catches it; it grounds him. 

“Pretty,” Bokuto says, for the second time tonight. Akaashi flushes, he can’t help it. You’d think after all this time he’d get used to Bokuto complimenting him every five seconds, but he never has. It never ceases to fluster him. Instead of dwelling on it, Akaashi pulls halfway off and takes him all the way down again, and he repeats the motion, just like that. Up, down, up down. 

It’s _visceral_. 

Bokuto curses. He’s trying so hard, so hard, Akaashi can see the struggle in the knitting of his brows to the way his arm muscles contract, thighs tensing either side of Akaashi’s body.

But there’s only so long Akaashi can breathe through his nose, so he pulls off, blinking away the tears as he wraps a hand around Bokuto’s cock once more. “Good,” he says, “You did well.”

“I did?” Bokuto grins at him, voice breathy and eyes glittering with love. Akaashi forces himself to look away.

“Yes,” he affirms, planting a tentative kiss to the tip of his cock. Bokuto laughs a little, squeezing Akaashi’s hand. It’s still intertwined with his, even though he’d had to pull away his other one. “Lube.”

Bokuto lights up even more, leaning over to fumble around in the drawer until he finds it. He passes it to Akaashi, who takes it with mild amusement written across his face. 

“You’re so eager today, Bokuto-san,” he says, before he can stop himself.

“Always, for you,” Bokuto responds without batting an eyelid, grinning charmingly. Akaashi shakes his head. _Idiot_ , he thinks, but all he feels is love.

“You’re going to watch,” he says. “No touching.”

Bokuto _pouts_.

“I’ll cuff you,” Akaashi threatens him with a smile, “You know I will.”

“But—“

Bokuto looks like a kicked puppy. This time, Akaashi doesn’t even bother keeping his laughter down. He chuckles softly, leaning forward to kiss him and Bokuto melts against his lips, letting out a small, satisfied noise. “Slowly,” Akaashi reminds him, pulling away to kiss along the angle of his jaw instead, gentle and fleeting.

“Mm..” Bokuto hums, closing his eyes and threading his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. His free hand runs along his spine, mapping out the details of his body like it’s the last time he’d ever get to touch him. “You’re pretty, Keiji.”

“You say that a lot,” is all Akaashi can think to respond with, nibbling on his neck, running his lips over the bite marks and caressing them with his tongue.

Bokuto smiles at him, like he knows why. “It’s true,” he murmurs, “Pretty, like the stars.”

“The stars?” Akaashi takes the lube now, coating his fingers in it while he draws back, taking in the sight before him. His boyfriend’s body is something to marvel at in itself, but Akaashi’s gaze is fixed on his eyes, wide, golden and beautiful, looking at him ( _him_ ) like he’s the only thing he’d ever need, filled with light and hope and adoration. 

Bokuto nods. “Yeah,” he answers, “I’ve always thought that. It’s kinda silly, I guess. You’re just..” He looks bashful.

Akaashi cocks his head slightly, curious.

“You’re just this unattainable thing, like,” he struggles a bit, “ _otherworldly_ , I guess. Did I use that right?”

“Yes. But, you have me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, ignoring the heat blooming in his cheeks, crawling up his neck. “Stars are still of this world, you know.”

“Mm,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t feel like they should be. It feels like… they’re too pretty to be a part of _this_.”

“What, the world?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto nods again, “It’s like, you’re greater. Than the world, I mean. It encompasses me, but stars, they encompass it, they’re bigger than it, they watch it, and you can never reach it. You can only… hope to, I guess.”

“I understand,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you touch me now, and see?”

“You said not to,” Bokuto tilts his head in the most adorable manner, like he can’t imagine why he’d ever consciously break the rules.

Akaashi laughs. “No, it’s okay. Touch me now.”

“I can?”

“You can.”

So, Bokuto does. Reaches out and puts a hand on his thigh, eyes searching for any sign that Akaashi will tell him to stop. He won’t, he wouldn’t, not now. Bokuto runs his hand up along the supple flesh, squeezing, teasing, until he reaches his hip, his waist, passing the curve of his shoulder and reaching up to simply hold Akaashi’s face with his hand again. 

He gazes at him like he can’t believe he’s real.

“See?” Akaashi says. He lays his hand on top of Bokuto’s, not holding it, just to feel him. Just to keep him there. “I am right here, Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah...” Bokuto is somewhat awestruck. “Yeah, you are.”

“I’m glad,” he whispers, finally, _finally_ , pushing a finger inside of himself. He’s done this enough times to know just how to angle them, but it’s not as good as when Bokuto does it. Even so, he bends, prods, and— _oh,_ that’s it, right there, fuck _yes._ He shivers, words trailing off into a broken moan before he continues. “I’m— _hah_ — I’m glad… to be here.”

“Jesus,” Bokuto curses, thumb running across his cheekbone even as his eyes dart down to watch Akaashi’s fingers as they disappear into himself. “That’s it… stretch yourself open for me, just like that.”

“Better when you do it,” he mumbles, adding a second, curling them both up to press deliciously against his prostate. “ _Fuck_ — oh my god.”

“You look so good like this,” Bokuto admits, pupils dilated as he watches.

“Yeah?” Akaashi breathes the word out, hissing as he adds a third finger but crooks them up all the same and the stretch burns so _good_ , he’s quivering. “I’d look better with your cock in me.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” he says, again, licking over his suddenly dry lips. “God, Keiji, I can’t— I’m so hard it _hurts_ —“

“You’re doing good.” Akaashi practically whimpers, thrusting all three fingers in deep, eyes rolling back into his head as his body shakes from the pleasure. He could come like this, he could. But he doesn’t want to. “So good for me, you’re so good, I want— _fuck_ , just fuck me—“

“I’m gonna, I will, I promise. You wanna ride me still?” asks Bokuto, hand falling away from where it rested against Akaashi’s cheek and rather placing both his palms underneath Akaashi’s thighs to hold him securely.

Akaashi nods, pulling his fingers out and haphazardly pouring some lube onto Bokuto’s erection, still hard against his abdomen. Akaashi wants it inside him, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. He watches Bokuto pump his hand around his cock with hungry eyes, getting himself all slicked up and ready.

“C’mere,” Bokuto says, and Akaashi more than happily obliges.

He shifts a little forward, rocking back until Bokuto’s cock is pressed against the swell of his ass and _god_ does he feel even harder like this, thick, wet, and throbbing as he reaches behind himself to spread his asscheeks apart, letting the tip of his cock rub teasingly over his hole. Akaashi keens, goosebumps erupting across his skin. “Kou,” he whispers, barely audible.

“Mm? You ready?” Bokuto asks him, and Akaashi nods, assuredly, before lowering himself, slowly, steadily, down on his cock. Inch by inch presses into him, filling him up and dragging torturously good along his inner walls; it feels _euphoric_.

“Holy fuck,” Akaashi whimpers, brows furrowed with concentration. “ _Holy_ _fuck_.”

Bokuto clicks his tongue playfully, even though his abdominals are straining with the effort to resist rocking up into him. “You and your dirty mouth— _god,_ you take me so well, Jesus _fucking Christ_.”

“Blasphemy, Bokuto-san—“ Akaashi laughs breathlessly, finally lowering himself all the way down, seated completely on Bokuto’s cock. Hips flush against hips. “Give— give me a minute, _shit_ —“

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing audibly, “You okay?”

“Mmh… ‘s fucking big… let me—“

“Take your time, no rush,” Bokuto’s voice is soft, but Akaashi can feel how hard he is, how much he craves that friction, “Want you to be comfortable.”

After about thirty seconds, Akaashi nods, steadying himself with his hands braced on Bokuto’s hips for leverage as he starts to slowly roll his own.

“Shit,” Bokuto hisses, “Oh my god.” 

Akaashi agrees. He starts off slow, getting properly adjusted to the stretch, the depth, the size of him— it’s been a while. “ _Ah_ — _mm,_ fuck— ‘s that feel good?”

“Yeah. _Yeah_ , yes, just like that—“

“You’re— _ah!_ “ Akaashi cuts himself off as the tip of Bokuto’s cock presses directly against his prostate. “ _God_. Kou, help me to— _oh,_ fuck—“ 

Bokuto almost reads his mind, snapping his hips sharply up into him, and Akaashi cries out, a broken moan falling from his lips. It always amazes him how well Bokuto actually knows his body. They work up a steady rhythm, Bokuto rolling up as Akaashi’s hips press down, all prior whisperings of _slow_ gone and saved for another day; Akaashi is touch-starved, he’s missed it so much, and all he wants is to _feel_.

“There?” Bokuto asks, slightly smug. Akaashi wants to kiss him, but the angle makes it too hard. “Is that what you want?”

It is, it fucking is. He’s leaking, keening softly as he bounces with something akin to desperation, lifting and lowering, feeling every inch of him inside.

“ _Harder_ ,” he begs, and Bokuto raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Thought you wanted it slow?” he repeats, again. 

Akaashi shakes his head. He’s trembling. “Forget that,” he says, cock dripping pathetically. “Just— Just fuck me, please— ‘s been too long, I need it—“

“Me too.” This time, Bokuto leans up to kiss him, hands still underneath his thighs. He lifts him up, somehow managing to effortlessly get him on his back without breaking contact. “Here, like this?”

“Yeah,” Akaashi nods, “Yeah, _please,_ just—“

He cuts himself off with an embarrassingly lewd noise yet again, Bokuto choosing that exact moment to gyrate his hips expertly, thrusting up into him and burying himself to the hilt. Akaashi _shakes_. The tip of Bokuto’s cock is pressing perfectly against his prostate, and he swears he sees fireworks behind his eyelids as he squeezes them tightly shut. 

Bokuto seems to get the message.

“Right there?” he rasps, emphasising it with a subtle roll of his hips. His voice is low and guttural, equal in power as tranquility, the deep rumbling of ocean waves caressing him with gentle ease, crashing into him mercilessly. 

Akaashi’s breath hitches. He’s underwater; he’s drowning, he’s falling, but maybe he is flying too.

“Yes,” he says; it’s embarrassing, it’s always been embarrassing, allowing himself to actually feel good. He’s probably more comfortable with Bokuto than with anyone else on the planet. It did take him a while to get used to giving him the control once in a while, but he trusts him with his life and it’ll probably stay that way for the remainder of it. “ _Yes_ , do it again.”

His boyfriend grins, a dopey half-smirk that makes Akaashi’s insides churn. “I’ll do _more_ than that.”

True to his words, he does exactly as promised.

Bokuto’s never been one to let him down, in any aspect of their relationship — or in general, really. He puts one hundred percent into everything he does and delivers, delivers, _delivers,_ Bokuto loves to _give_. Just as he gives now, thrusting into him with practiced precision, a carnal roughness fueled by desire.

It doesn’t take long for Akaashi to feel his orgasm building steadily in his gut. It never does; Bokuto always fucks him so _well,_ it drives him crazy.

“Bokuto-san—“

Bokuto clicks his tongue, driving a particularly hard thrust into him to counter. “You’re about to come and you’re still so formal, Keiji,” he pants, eyes never leaving his. Akaashi feels his cheeks heat up.

All he lets out in response is the most pathetic whimper, so uncharacteristically _needy_. 

“I want you to say it for me.”

“ _Hnnf_ — what—“

“My name,” says Bokuto, breathless, clearly not far from an orgasm himself. “What’s my name, Keiji?”

“ _Mmmngh—_ hah— can’t, I’m—“

Suddenly, there’s a pressure at the base of his cock, and Akaashi wants to scream, whine, beg, anything. Bokuto’s fingers are wrapped firmly around him, impeding his orgasm as he looks him dead in the eyes.

“C’mon,” Bokuto almost pleads, leaning down to kiss him again. It’s a little sloppy because he’s still moving, _he’s still moving,_ thrusting into him at a relentless pace while Akaashi shudders, claws at his back. He feels like he’s on fire. “You— _ah—_ you sound so fucking pretty when you say it, _fuck_ , I wanna— _please_ , before I—“

“I hate you,” Akaashi moans in mild retaliation, cheeks a deep crimson, so high-strung and close to the edge that he could _cry_ , “I want to— wanna come, it fucking hurts— _jesus_ fuck—“

“My _name_ , Keiji.” It’s almost cruel, the way Bokuto can press his buttons like this, get under his skin. “Beg for me, tell me how bad you want it—“

“ _Koutarou_ ,” he breathes, finally, shaky and laboured. Embarrassed. Shameful. It feels dirty. Obscene, the way Bokuto’s pupils dilate, the heat flashing across his golden irises. “Fuck, I need to— _please_ —“

“Beg,” Bokuto grunts, rhythm faltering just slightly; he’s close, “Beg for me.”

_Asshole,_ Akaashi thinks, gritting his teeth, but Bokuto needs the praise, he needs it to get off, he loves feeling wanted, craved. He _is_ both of those things, and Akaashi thanks the heavens he’s better at voicing it now than he used to be.

“ _Please_ ,” he says quietly, voice quivering. His cock is straining against Bokuto’s hand, throbbing with need and it’s borderline _painful_ at this point, but that only makes him more desperate. “Please, Kou, please, _fuck,_ please, I need— I need to come, I can’t— I need you, you’ve been so good— you’re so— _Koutarou—_ “

Bokuto loosens his grip. 

He gives one sharp tug upwards and Akaashi is falling apart, white splashing across his vision as his head tips back, arching off the mattress while his orgasm wracks through him with a crushing force; Bokuto follows soon after, hips stuttering before he buries himself as deep inside as he can, a shuddering groan falling from his lips. 

Akaashi vaguely registers the pulsing of Bokuto’s cock as he comes. He fills him up just when Akaashi starts to come down from the high of his own orgasm, blinking away the dots in his blurry vision.

“Holy shit,” says Bokuto, after a while. He sounds exhausted. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Akaashi wants to laugh. Instead, he blurts out, “Kiss me,” before he can comprehend it.

Bokuto’s entire face lights up, and he surges forward with _far too much energy_ , cupping Akaashi’s face as he kisses him softly. It’s lazy and wet and warm, and Akaashi threads his fingers through Bokuto’s hair while they kiss.

“‘s nice,” Bokuto mumbles against his lips.

“It was.” Akaashi can already feel the tips of his ears going red. “You did good.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, always,” he says, pressing a tired kiss to Bokuto’s lower lip. “You should—“

“ _Oh,_ right—“ 

This time, Akaashi does laugh. It breaks off into a soft sigh as Bokuto pulls slowly out of him, trying to ignore the way his eyes darken as he looks him up and down.

“Bokuto-san. Stop it, I’m tired.”

Bokuto doesn’t look apologetic at all. “You’re pretty, Keiji,” he says, grinning down at him.

Akaashi rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. His heart swells, and a familiar warmth spreads across his chest. He’s happy.

“Like the stars?”

Bokuto cleans him like he’s delicate, like he’s something precious.

“Mhm,” he answers, finally laying down beside him. There’s a dopey smile on his face; Akaashi adores it. “Like the stars.”

Akaashi yawns. He scoots up a little bit, seeking Bokuto’s warmth. “I always thought of you as one, too,” he admits, “from the first time I saw you play.”

“Really?” Bokuto holds him. Tightly, gently. His breathing is calm, his brain is erratic.

“Mm. Does this mean we are both, as you say, bigger than the world, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto chuckles, and the sound rumbles deep from within his chest, bounces off of Akaashi’s skin, seeps underneath it. “I dunno what I’m talking about, really,” he brushes it off with such minimal effort.

There’s a pause.

“Maybe we are what we make the world,” Akaashi whispers, eyes fluttering closed. The moon outside is full. If he were to look now, his heart would stutter as it’s done so many times before; moonlight has always reflected so nicely in his boyfriend’s eyes.

_Night owl_ , he thinks, fondly.

“Yeah?” Bokuto sounds pleased. He’s holding him a little tighter. He tends to do that when he’s excited, when he’s happy.

Akaashi smiles, sinking ever-deeper into the clutches of sleep. Slowly.

_Slowly._

“Yeah,” he says, “Maybe I am yours. Just as you are mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this little something while I carry on with my longer fic I’m planning on doing (don’t take my word for that though, I may jinx it)! You can reach me on tumblr @/xeneurotics, and I may open my twitter soon, who knows?? Anyway, don’t forget about me while I attempt to finish this monster of a fic & please do leave a comment if you liked this one!! Byebye for now!


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